The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-03-27

night-dreSs cllnglng close and revealing every
lovely contour of her form. Her face was turned
to the sun. and the wideopen eyes looked
straight across the lake to the shore whence she
dreamed her Achilles was to come. She almost
seemed to breathe-and was stons dead.
Solomon Walker tried to deceive himself
NAV. she amt dead, is shep "Oh. ter be sho
she amt dead!' he cried, examining her cold
white limbs. "She er jes' tainted away from
numbness out h-yer in the cole" He spoke with
frantic vehemence, while the chill of despair
down his sun burned face
81 knowd she were called sence way back
wander" said old Mrs. Walker solemnly. ''She
amt no mo- fur this world SOL an hit er better
so reckon. The Lord knows Her brains was
| added Clean sence the lake run off that Sec
ond time she taken"
The woman stopped awe struck. The sun did
not blind her now, and all at once it came over
her with feeling almost of horror that the lake
was sinking.
Some months after Ariadnes adventure at the
spring. the same stranger passed on his way
back through that country. He made inquiries
the neghborhood was near, and final
IL found himself at Solomon Walkers gate. He
was received with no lack of hospitality at the
humble farm. house, but gloom seemed to per-
meate the air. and he soon learned the meaning
of this, to his keen regret; all his trouble then
| was vain; he was not to see that strange girl
| again.
| With great tact and cleverness he led them
IL
came out about her strange distemper Old
| Mrs. Walker was by nature volube and seemed
to feel that there could be motive for conceal
| ment The strange man appeared to take a deep
| interest in the matter and asked eagerly to be
shown her writings but here was second dis
| appointment Old Mrs. Walker informed him
that they had been buried with her
| She peared to love hit so-that ere little
writn book, an she had it thar by 'er when We
foun' FER that mornin'; and Sol he said less do it,
| Hit wer the best way Gaze never could a stood
ter see it layin' roun the house. an couldn't a
| put it in the fire."
| She produced. however a torn sheet of paper
which she had but lately found, and placed it
before him as a specimen of Ariadne's ''writn."
| 1t was the chirography merely which she sup
posed ne was anxious TO see. and she prepared to
| feel gratiied at his encomiums But he did not
| admire the chirography. AS soon as his eyes
fell the unpractlced. childish hand the thought
shaped in his mind that he had pushed forward
only to meet fresh disappointment But al
most the next instant he muttered:
Good heavens! They are Shakspearean.'
| There were but four lines Of poetry on the bit
! of paper which could be read; the others. at top
and bottom, had been torn off. 1t was. perhaps,
remnant of one of the sheets Ariadne had torn
| up in despair
Was this all2 Didn't she think there might
| still be scattered sheets lying abouta
Wondering at his eagerress old Mrs. Walker
| answered no.
They had made her grave on the wire grass
covered Giants Head-where once week poor
Nathan Cowsley brought his Offering of flowers
| and the stranger came and stood by it. The
| place seemed drearv enough now with so little
| of water in the lake and the dead leaves of win
ter falling. But the light frosts of the region
harmed not the hardy wire-grass which threw W
| it's blowy masses in exultantlke luxuriance; i,
| would soon sweep over and obliterate the little
| earthen mound.
ALIAS! poor young poetic die with your noble
songs unsung.' So sighed the stranger. and
looked and went his way.
| So let us not sigh
With the Greeks of Crete the goddess named
| hriadne was the Return of Spring. The Spring
| sleeps through the wintry night, but rises into
| life again at its own dawn. So poet soulea
Ariadne sleeps only in the death transition, AND
| wakes full soon in the eternal spring to find he
mate, aud to find the meteorological and free
| flowing now-to sing her songs those pent up
! unsung songs with which her heart had burst.